Puff and Prejudice
by RosalindHawkins
Summary: "If Ryou'd known that he'd be facing such prejudice in America, he would have resisted their leaving London at all. What had possessed his father to move them to the most prejudiced town in the Midwest?" AU Puffshipping (Jounouchi Katsuya/Joey Wheeler x Ryou Bakura) Contains: smut/lemon, language, violence, angst, attempted rape, self-harm, suicidal ideation, bullying. Yaoi.
1. Football

**Author Notes:** Puffshipping as requested.

* * *

Ryou hated sports. He hated the aggression, the competition, the cheating, the underhanded tactics, the bad sportsmanship, the pressure for perfect physical performance. As such, he never, in a million years, would have gone to a football game. But it wasn't up to him, not this time. Joey had asked him to come to his games that season, at least all of his home games. When Joey turned those sad puppy eyes on him, it was impossible to say no.

He knew that Ryou had to work to pay rent, since his dad hadn't contacted him in over a year, so he understood if he didn't have the leisure to travel to the away games. Joey worked too, but he was serious about football. He knew he was no genius, and the only way he was going to move out of his dad's place was to get a sports scholarship so he could get to college somewhere far away.

The homecoming game was over now, and they'd won, not that it mattered much to Ryou, but if it made Joey happy, then it made him happy. Joey'd done a great job in the game, as far as Ryou could tell, and he was looking forward to going home and celebrating his success over a box of creampuffs.

Ryou leaned against the wall as he waited for Joey to come out of the locker room. He could have gone in if he wanted to, but he knew the animosity that he'd be met with in there. It was one of the main reasons that Ryou hated that his father had moved them here. At least in England, his orientation was accepted. Here, in a small town in the middle of nowhere in midwestern America, people judged him, bullied him, talked down to him, condemned him, persecuted him, and he couldn't do a thing about it. He was used to a degree of isolation and separation from the people around him, but this was worse than anything he'd ever known. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if his father were around…

He knew the rumors. People never said them to his face, but he heard them anyways. He always did. Some people claimed that Mr. Bakura abandoned his son because he was ashamed of him. The rumor would circulate for a few weeks, die out for a while, then resurge with a new twist, a new lie added to make it more plausible, more entertaining, more vicious. He knew deep down that they were lies, but when he was upset, he couldn't help but wonder...

If Ryou had known that he'd be facing such prejudice in America, he would have resisted their leaving London. But he'd heard that tolerance was growing in the States, and he'd assumed that this applied to everywhere in the States. He'd been wrong. Sure, major cities like New York, Seattle, and Los Angeles were sure to be safe for people like him, but they hadn't moved to a major city. They'd moved to the most homophobic town in the whole country. At least, that's how it felt to Ryou.

Just last week, there was a shooting at a gay bar in Orlando by a Muslim extremist, and the stigma surrounding him seemed to grow as a result. The only people who would even go near him now were Joey and Marik—who, being a peaceful Muslim himself, also suffered unjust stigma, especially after last week. Marik and Ryou had been united by their persecution, and while they didn't agree with each other on everything—Marik didn't think homosexuality was okay and Ryou didn't think Islam was true—they simply agreed to disagree and respected each other's beliefs. Why couldn't the rest of the town learn how to do that? Wasn't that the kind of freedom this country was built to protect?

Marik didn't suffer as much as Ryou, though, because _he_ had a family, a whole one: two parents, two siblings, a safe, happy home. At least he didn't go home to a cold, empty house, trying to pay the bills all by himself. At least he had a family to comfort him when the gossip was too harsh, to encourage him when he didn't want to go back to school ever again, to remind him that he only had to stay here until high school was over, then he could flee to somewhere more accepting.

Ryou didn't have any of that, so it was no surprise that in the two years he'd been living here, he'd drafted his suicide note at least half a dozen times and planned his own demise at least as many. He never followed through, though. Something always held him back. Fear, hope, love.

Despite all odds, he'd actually managed to find love in this harsh, forsaken place. Joey had been his friend from day one, never expecting to fall in love with the Brit's pale hair and gentle eyes. But he had, and he'd finally confessed it that summer, the summer before senior year. Ryou was glad that he hadn't waited any longer to do so, because Ryou had been dangerously close to his breaking point.

Their relationship was secret, though, at Ryou's insistence. He didn't want Joey, the only popular jock who was also a decent person, to suffer because of his association with Ryou. Joey'd been sticking up for Ryou and fighting his bullies all along, every chance that he could, so that didn't need to change, but Joey couldn't join him and Marik for lunch. He had plenty of friends and teammates that would be expecting him to sit with them anyways. It would make him stand out too much, and Ryou knew exactly what that felt like. He didn't need Joey to suffer too. He wanted to keep seeing Joey smile like he had been every day since the day they met.

Ryou pulled up the zipper on his dark blue hoodie, trying to make himself warm in the chilly autumn air. The sun was setting, and that made it even cooler outside. Most people had left for the homecoming dance, but for some reason, Joey was taking longer than usual. He felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his jeans, and he pulled it out. He had a text from Joey.

"Meet me inside."

That was weird. Ryou avoided going inside locker rooms as much as possible, but as far as he could tell, all of the other football players had left, and Joey was the only one remaining inside. He hesitated for a moment, then went in, figuring that Joey had a good reason for this. When he entered, he saw Joey's gymbag on the bench, but no Joey. He went further in, opening his mouth to call out his boyfriend's name, but before he could make a sound, a large, meaty hand clamped down over his mouth and nose. Panic jolted through the thin teen as he was dragged backwards into one of the shower stalls. He tried to fight, but his attacker was bigger, stronger, and ruthless. He shoved his victim against the wall, a sickening sound echoing faintly as the side of Ryou's head slammed into the wall, making him squeeze his eyes shut.

Disoriented and terrified, Ryou opened his eyes. He wasn't surprised to see who it was. Jack Miller was one of the most vicious homophobes on the football team, as well as one of their best linebackers. He was huge, and Ryou began to feel sick as he realized he didn't stand a ghost of a chance trying to fight back against him.

"So you like being fucked by men, huh?"

His slurred speech told Ryou that he was drunk—no surprise there. He leered close, still covering the lower half of Ryou's face with his hand as he reached for the other's belt and began to undo it. Ryou tried to push him away, knowing that if he didn't physically resist, he stood no chance at persuading anyone that he'd been forced. He already stood no chance at convincing anyone that this was happening, but it made him feel better to know that at least he'd put up a fight.

Jack used both hands to seize Ryou's wrists and push them above his head, and while he was distracted with that, Ryou lifted a leg to knee him in the crotch as hard as he possibly could. Jack shouted, dropping Ryou as he clutched at his family jewels in pain. This was his chance to escape. Ryou slipped away as quickly as he could, thinking that he actually had a chance to run away. After four steps, though, he cried out, painfully restrained as Jack yanked him by his hair with one hand, the other still coddling his bruised ego.

"You little bitch!" He was enraged, and if he was going to hurt Ryou before, then he was most certainly going to break him now. He shoved Ryou down so that he sprawled awkwardly on the bench, still halfway on the floor. He landed with a grunt, the breath knocked out of him as pain shot through his ribs. The pain made him start to cry, whether he wanted to or not, and as he felt those large, rough hands tugging at the waistband of his jeans, he cried harder.

"If you scream, I'll twist your little neck until it snaps," Jack growled, making Ryou shudder. "Got it?"

Ryou nodded, biting down on as his hand as he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the pain.

"Hey! Whaddya think you're doin'?!" Joey's scream of violent indignation made Ryou sigh in relief. He remained huddled where he was as he let the other two duke it out. Joey won, of course; he wasn't as big as Jack, but he was both strong and sober, which gave him the advantage.

Ryou was too dazed and upset to pay attention to what was happening, and only became aware of his surroundings again once Jack was gone and Joey was gently pulling his pants back up.

"It's okay, bud, I've gotchya. I kicked his ass good and hard, so he'll never bother you again."

He propped Ryou into a sitting position in order to fasten his belt, then helped him to stand. Ryou sagged against Joey, exhausted from the altercation.

"I kicked him in the balls," Ryou murmured weakly, making Joey chuckle a little.

"Atta boy," he praised, kissing the top of Ryou's head as he held him close. That was when he noticed Ryou's head-wound.

"You're bleeding!" Joey exclaimed, surprised and panicked. Ryou reached up and touched the part of his head that ached, surprisingly calm when his hand came away bright red.

"Huh," he muttered numbly as Joey helped him to sit down on the bench before rushing to grab some paper towels and the first aid kit. Something caught his eye along the way, making him stop and scowl into Jack's forgotten gym-bag.

"So that's where my phone went," he muttered, snatching his cell out of his teammate's bag and shoving it in his pocket before returning to Ryou and pressing a folded paper towel to his head. "Hold this in place," he instructed, guiding Ryou's hand to its place before opening the first aid kit and rummaging about for the things he needed.

"What _happened_ , Ryou?" he asked as he squeezed the instant cold pack, giving it an impatient shake before pressing it into Ryou's other hand and guiding it to his bruised ribs. He hissed as the cold came into contact with the hot, swelling pain of his fresh injuries.

"You texted me," he answered slowly, trying to recall how it had started. "You told me to come in, so I did, and he…" Ryou's voice broke, and Joey paused in preparing the bandages to kiss Ryou's small mouth.

"I get it, you don't have to say anything else," he murmured, trying to keep his anger in check. He was better than his father, he reminded himself. He pulled away Ryou's hand so he could wipe the wound with a damp paper towel and get a better look at it the cut itself. "I thought I lost my phone and went back to the field to look for it. I lost track of time, the realized it was dark and came back to this…" He sighed, then looked down into Ryou's teary eyes. " _He_ texted you, not me. I can't help but wonder if he planned all of this, or if it was a spur of the moment thing."

Ryou could only shrug in answer to that. He had no idea, and there was a way in which it didn't matter to him.

"Did he do anything else to you?"

Ryou glanced up at Joey, recognizing that look of vengeful fury in his eyes. The Brit shook his head.

"He didn't do any physical damage that you don't already see," he answered softly, looking down at the ice pack in his hand. Joey gently unzipped Ryou's hoodie and shifted Ryou's hand inside his outerwear so that it could do a better job of numbing the pain. Then he finished patching him up in silence.

Joey was used to doing this: taking care of Ryou after a beating or a fight. He always had that numb reaction to everything afterwards, so Joey wasn't surprised by that. He _was_ surprised by how far things had gone this time. He helped Ryou to stand, afraid that he might have a concussion.

"Where did you hit your head?"

"The wall." Ryou lifted a hand to point to the smudge of drying blood on the shower wall, then to the second smudge on the lockers.

"Come on, we're taking you to the police station," he said, putting an arm around Ryou's shoulders to guide him.

"What? Why?!" Ryou jerked back, startled, and almost lost his balance. He would have fallen down if Joey weren't already holding him.

"Because we need to report this." He looked down at Ryou, surprised that he needed that explained to him. "We'll get him arrested for assault, battery, and attempted rape. Heck, why not throw in underage drinking while we're at it? I'd love to see him go down."

"They won't believe it, though," Ryou informed his best friend quietly, slipping his shaking hand into Joey's steady one. "It's best not to say anything."

Joey gaped at him. "Are you thick in the head, or somethin'? If we don't report it, he'll get away with it!"

"They'll say that it's impossible for him to have tried to rape me because he's not gay," Ryou explained numbly. "Which is a stupid argument to make, because the vast majority of men who rape other men _aren't_ gay, but they won't know that, and they won't care. If I tried to tell them that, they'd say I was lying, even though there are studies to prove it. They'll say that I'm making it up, that I'm lying because I want to get him in trouble. They'll write it off as playful fighting. They'll say no harm was intended. They'll say I provoked it somehow, that it's my fault, that I brought it on myself, that it's God's punishment for me being gay. They won't want to listen to anything I have to say."

"Ryou…" Joey didn't know what to say. He knew way too much about this kind of thing for this to be the first time this had occurred. How much research had he done on the subject that he knew those statistics off the top of his head? "Has this happened before?" He couldn't even say the words out loud, he had to utter them in a horrified whisper. Ryou looked away, shrugging with one shoulder.

"Not with him, but they were just as unsuccessful as he was," he muttered. "I tried reporting it the first time it happened, but I quickly realized that nobody was going to listen to me."

"When was that?" Joey asked softly, putting his arms around Ryou in a warm hug.

"About a month after my dad left. I think they thought I was lying because I wanted attention."

"That's terrible." For several long moments, Joey felt powerless. Then he glanced back at the shower, the lockers, and an idea came to him. He released Ryou as he spoke, pulling out his phone. "If they won't believe you, then we need to give them some physical evidence." With his phone, he snapped a few pictures of each blood-smear, then picked up one of the cellophane wrappers for the medical supplies he'd used it.

"What are you doing?"

"His fingerprints are on your belt. I'd like to see them try to explain _that_ away," Joey answered with smug determination.

Covering his hand with the plastic, he carefully removed Ryou's belt and rolled it up tightly, putting it in a plastic baggy and sealing it carefully.

" _Now_ we're going to the police station," Joey said after putting the first aid kit away, throwing Ryou's belt into his gym bag, and slinging said bag onto his shoulder. "I'm not willing to let him get away with this if we have a fighting chance of incriminating him. Are you?"

Ryou shook his head hesitantly, and Joey pecked his cheek.

"Nobody hurts my love and gets away with it."

* * *

"I can't believe you did it." Ryou smiled faintly as he sat beside Joey on the couch in his otherwise-empty home. "I didn't think we stood a chance, but you… you did it."

"They sure did get nervous when I threatened to go to the state police so they could be forced to investigate." Joey smiled back at Ryou, putting an arm around him and letting him lean against his shoulder as he continued to ice his bruises. "Didn't you love the look on his face when they brought him in, all handcuffed an' ev'rythin'?"

"Yeah." His chocolate eyes darted back up to Joey's face. The gratitude he felt for Joey was ineffably vast. "I can't thank you enough for what you did back there, Joey. You're my hero."

The blond was touched by Ryou's praise and dabbed a fresh tissue to his cheeks as more tears fell from those expressive eyes. "I'll be your hero anytime," he promised, giving Ryou a tender kiss. Those pale arms went around the blond's neck, holding him close as the kiss deepened and the blond gently guided the Brit into position on his lap. The cold pack fell to the floor, forgotten.

"I love you, Joey," Ryou whispered earnestly, his hands resting on those strong shoulders as his beloved's hands wiped away the last traces of his tears, cupping his face affectionately. "I love you with all of my heart."

"I love you to the moon and back," a breathless Joey answered, moving one hand away from Ryou's face so he could put a supportive arm around his waist. They were illuminated only by the moonlight, since Ryou hadn't wanted to turn the lights on when they got to his house. He was incredibly cautious about the utility bills, but besides that, he thought the moonlight was romantic.

As Ryou kissed Joey again, his partner's hand slid into his hair, caressing his head as his pants began to feel a bit too tight.

"Ryou, is this what you want?" he asked, pulling back so that he could study Ryou's face. He hadn't asked that question since their first time laying together, but after the events of tonight, he wanted to be especially certain that Ryou didn't feel pressured. The last thing he wanted to do was be insensitive.

"Nothing would make me happier, Joey, than to make love with you." Ryou's words made Joey blush, but he didn't stop there, continuing to whisper into his boyfriend's ear until Joey's face had turned scarlet. The bullied Brit may seem sweet and soft and meek—and most of the time he _was_ that way—but he also had an uncanny ability to talk dirty to Joey until he squirmed with need.

Finally, Joey gave in, holding Ryou carefully as he stood from the couch and carried the other teen to his bedroom.

"I'm glad you're alright," he murmured against Ryou's ear, his breathing uneven and his voice gritty with arousal.

"I am thanks to you," he reminded him with a smile as Joey lay him down on the bed. "Now fuck me until I scream, you—"

Joey kissed him hungrily and desperately, Ryou's hands rubbing his back as he welcomed the attentions and responded in kind. For a brief, lucid moment, Ryou realized that Joey needed him as much as he needed Joey.


	2. Snow

Ryou trudged home in his old snow-boots, his toes numb, his gloved hands shoved deep into his pockets, his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and lower face as he tried to keep his skin from being any further damaged by the stinging wind.

It never snowed like this in London, he thought to himself bitterly, kicking at the snow as he sighed in annoyance, his breath puffing out in warm, wet clouds of steam that dissipated quickly. Apparently, the midwest was known for long, harsh winters. This winter was shaping up to be even worse than last winter, and Ryou had thought that last winter was unbearable.

Ryou hated winter: the wet, the cold, the wind. It dried his hands until they chapped and whipped his cheeks until they stung. He always slipped on the icy sidewalks, and last year he'd slipped so badly that he sprained his ankle; at least school had been let out by the time that happened, so he was able to rest it properly and recover at home without missing school, or worse, continuing to walk on his bad ankle and making the injury worse because he was too thrifty to go to the doctor. Winter was best spent indoors with fuzzy blankets and warm fires and hot cocoa, in Ryou's opinion.

The only good thing about winter was Christmas, but even Christmas had been spoiled for him. When his mother and sister had died, Christmas had been a bit sadder, as bitter as it was sweet. Then his father had disappeared and, it had become the worst day of the year for Ryou. He supported the holiday in general, it just so happened to be the case that Christmas was one of the saddest days of the year for him personally.

Several days of the year were utterly miserable for him, actually: Christmas, New Year's Eve, his mom's birthday, Amane's birthday, his dad's birthday, his own birthday, Valentine's Day, and, of course, the day his mother and Amane had died. He'd hoped that Valentine's Day would be better this time around, but now, he wasn't so sure…

If it weren't for the fact that it was 12' Fahrenheit outside, Ryou would be crying. He knew from his experience last winter, though, that crying in weather this cold _would_ make tears freeze to his face, and frozen tears burned more than you might think. He and Joey'd had a fight that day, one that had made Ryou unravel completely and give up hope.

He turned off the main sidewalk to walk down the path through the snow that he'd trodden between the sidewalk and his front door. The front of his house was laden with icicles that Ryou didn't care enough to remove. He fumbled a little with his house key before he finally slipped it inside the lock and shoved open the front door. He pushed the door shut behind him and dropped his backpack on the floor, leaning back against the front door as a choked sob escaped his throat. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again as he realized that it was no warmer in here than it was outside. That wasn't right. He straightened up and walked over to the thermostat to check the temperature. The digital display was blank, though, making Ryou's forehead wrinkle with concern. He tried to turn on the lights, but flipping the switch had no effect whatsoever. No, this couldn't be happening, not now, not today, not in this weather…

He grabbed a flashlight and went down to his frigid, unfinished basement to check the fusebox and see if the circuit breaker had tripped. No, that wasn't the problem. He looked at the electric furnace and saw that the system was still and silent. Had the electric company turned his power off, or had it been knocked out by the weather? He'd only paid the heating bill one day late. He'd mailed them the check last week, and since everything had been fine since then, he'd assumed that he had nothing to worry about, that they'd gotten his check and that he was good for the next month. He hadn't been able to pay the bill any sooner because between trying to maintain the minimum balance in his bank account and getting his hours cut at work, he simply hadn't had enough to pay it on time. He'd just had to wait a day, or maybe two, so that he could deposit his next paycheck have enough to write the check for the power company.

He worked at the one Chinese restaurant in town, and it was super sketchy. The food was questionable at best, bad enough that Ryou himself wouldn't eat it, but every other place he'd applied to had never called him back. He knew why nobody else would hire him. It was so painfully obvious. Joey had visited him at work once during his break, and maybe their embrace had been enough to repulse his manager and make him punish Ryou for his orientation by cutting his hours. At least he hadn't cut his pay. His boss didn't have kids at the high school to tell him about Ryou, which was probably why he'd been hired in the first place.

Ryou crossed his arms as he shivered in the darkness, trying to decide what he should do now. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't call Joey. Not after what had happened today. He couldn't call Marik, even though he was the only other true friend Ryou had. No matter how many times Marik offered to help Ryou should he ever need it, Ryou couldn't bring himself to burden the Ishtars with his presence. He was trouble. He was dead-weight. He was a problem, an outcast, a social pariah. They suffered enough for being Muslim without adding the stigma of lending aid to the only open homosexual in town.

Despairing that there was anything else he could do, Ryou plodded up the rough wooden stairs, still wearing his snow-boots, and went to his father's bedroom to gather the comforter up in his arms and take it to his room. He cast it over his bed, straightening out over his own comforter and blankets. He got a large fuzzy blanket from the hall closet and dropped it on his bed as well. He started to take his outerwear off, kicking off his boots, tugging off his hat and gloves, unwrapping his scarf, and shedding his coat. He shivered violently as he started pulling on extra pairs of socks, a thick wool sweater, an oversized hoodie, and a fresh pair of dry gloves. He wrapped himself up in the soft beige fuzz of the blanket that would have been on his father's bed had he been home, then grabbed a shoebox from under his bed and took it with him as he buried himself under the mound of blankets on his bed. He'd hidden at the library after school and gotten his homework done there, so he had no schoolwork to do now, which was for the best, because he couldn't hold in his grief any longer.

Ryou pulled the hood up around his head as he began to shiver just a little less, began to feel just a bit warmer than he'd been when he was outside. He sniffled as tears started to fall from his eyes, reaching for his flashlight and opening the shoebox as he cried.

This was the shoebox that held every suicide note he'd ever drafted, a stack of tissues, his pocket-knife, and a box of large band-aids. Beneath the suicide notes were a few extra sheets of folded paper and a pair of pens, for drafting more. He couldn't write anything right now, though. He was empty of words, just full of pain. He fumbled for a moment with his gloved fingers, tugging a few tissues out of their stack and pressing them to his eyes as more tears flowed. The weight of his many covers blocked out what little daylight was filtering into his room, so the only light he had was from his flashlight, which he set down on the sheets by his head.

The tented fabric around him was suffocating, blocking out fresh air, but Ryou didn't care. He just wanted to stop feeling cold, wanted to stop feeling sad, wanted to stop feeling pain. He wiggled his toes inside his thick socks as he pulled his legs up closer, curling into an even tighter ball of misery. Even as he cried, he reached out and seized his oldest suicide note by the corner of the page. He unfolded it with shaking hands, skimming it with tearful eyes and effectively making him cry harder than before.

That was the boost he'd needed to reach for his knife and push up his sleeve so that he could drag the edge of the blade across his skin in a few short, shallow cuts. He whimpered as he did so, the dark lines showing in dim crimson stripes on his pale, goosebumped flesh. Five little lines was enough for now, and he quickly slapped a wide band-aid over his wrist before the blood stained any of his blankets. He wiped the blade on one of his tissues and shoved the knife and bandaids back into the shoebox. After that, he was content to weep out his pain.

Joey dwelled in the forefront of his mind as he cried, and he couldn't help but remember their fight. It wasn't so much what they'd said as what they hadn't said that made him hurt so much. Then Ryou had slipped away before Joey could even properly explain himself and continued avoiding Joey for the rest of the day. Maybe that wasn't fair of him, but he couldn't let himself think that, not after what he'd seen.

Mai Kujaki was the biggest slut in the whole school, arguably the biggest slut in town. Somehow, her parents still deluded themselves into believing that she was a paragon of virtue, their sweet little angel who could do no wrong. It was so far from the truth it revolted Ryou to no end. Mai wasn't innocent. Her nickname in locker-room gossip and men's room walls was "Mai Valentine," which, to Ryou, sounded like some kind of stripper name. She was promiscuous and vicious and manipulative, and while she couldn't pin down a long-term boyfriend for herself, every guy around still fell for her at some point or other. Well, every guy except Ryou. Even Marik had blushed at her flirtatious ways, but she'd never directed her wiles at him, so he was safe from her influence.

He still remembered the day he'd met her. He'd been attending this high school for less than a week when she decided to take a crack at the new guy. Now that he knew more about her, he knew that she probably would have made a fool of him if he'd given her the chance. As it was, she'd been the one to reveal to everyone that Ryou was gay. She'd tried flirting with him, which made him profoundly uncomfortable until he reached the point where he'd told her that he was so that she would stop. If only he'd known how much of a mistake that had been.

Mai's latest prey had been Joey, Ryou's own Joey, the only one alive who loved him. (Ryou had concluded long ago that either his father wasn't alive or his father didn't love him, and those could be the only possible explanations for his prolonged absence.) It had happened that morning, at the beginning of fourth period, as Ryou was rushing to get to class after a painful altercation with a pair of brainless jocks—honestly, was there really any other kind?—who thought it was funny to shove him down some stairs, tear up his homework, then stuff him in a locker and leave him to struggle his own way out. When he'd finally worked his way free, he'd grabbed his bag and rushed to his next class, only to interrupt Joey and Mai making out in the stairwell. Joey and Ryou had exchanged a brief glance for less than a second before Ryou had continued to dash away, wanting to put both of them behind him for good. Joey'd cornered him in the restroom during lunch and tried to talk to him about it, but Ryou had shut him down.

"We need to talk," Joey had said in a low voice as they stood at the urinals together, the bathroom empty except for themselves.

"What is there to say?" Ryou muttered bitterly without even looking at Joey. Ryou felt betrayed, heart-broken, and angry. He hadn't felt this angry since his father disappeared.

"It wasn't what it looked like." Joey sounded pained, and Ryou could only think that he deserved it.

"That's just what you'd like me to believe, right?" Ryou closed his pants and went to the sink to wash his hands.

"Don't you trust me?" Joey hissed, the Brit still refusing to look at him.

"I trust you as much as I trust my dad." The words had been cold and harsh, and before Joey could contradict him, someone else had entered the bathroom, allowing Ryou to escape Joey's overpowering presence.

Whether he liked it or not, Joey affected him. He loved Joey, and he couldn't help it. Right now, loving Joey caused him all of the pain he'd feared. Ryou wrapped his arms around his head as he started to sob harder, remembering the first time that Joey had kissed him, when the blond had come by Ryou's house one June afternoon and asked to buy him ice cream. They'd been friends for a while, but this was something new. Ryou had hesitantly agreed and Joey had driven them to the grocery store and told him to pick out his favorite flavor. While Ryou got Cherry Garcia, Joey got Smores, then they'd driven out to a field and sat on a fence as they ate their pints of ice cream together.

"I've never had that kind before," Joey'd said suddenly, sounding less smooth than he usually did. "Can I try some?"

"Sure." Ryou'd started to hand over his pint when Joey's lips landed on his. Ryou had been so surprised that he almost lost his balance, but Joey's hand had gone to his lower back, steadying him as they kissed and Ryou finally closed his eyes. When Joey pulled away, Ryou's cheeks were flushed and he felt pleased, embarrassed, and a little bit afraid.

"Why did you…?" he'd asked breathily, unable to finish the question.

"Because I think I love you." Joey's face was just as red as Ryou's at that moment, and for a few moments, neither of them knew what to say.

"I think I love you too," Ryou admitted, still afraid that all of this would somehow fall apart and he'd wake up to find that this was all a beautiful, sunny dream. "But you know that was an incredibly cheesy line, right?" Joey had grinned back at him sheepishly and kissed him again, Ryou's heart feeling light and fluttery and warm like never before.

Ryou didn't feel that way now, though. Joey had cheated on him with a tramp. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't believe it. But he _had_ seen it, and he _believed_ it. He believed that Joey had enjoyed it, too, which hurt even more. He knew that Joey was different from him. He knew that while he was homosexual, Joey was bisexual, and he'd been okay with it before. He'd been okay with it because he knew that if Joey truly preferred women to him, he would have just gotten himself a girlfriend to fool around with and left Ryou alone. What did he have to gain from risking his reputation, his friends, and the respect of his peers by dating the most hated person in town?

Ryou was shaking from the cold and his tears as he kept himself buried in the relatively warm darkness, feeling exhausted from the day. He always felt tired these days. Winter depressed him, but he felt more depressed today than he had all year. It wasn't even six in the evening, but he was ready to just sleep until morning. When he'd ceased crying, he turned his flashlight off, not wanting to burn out the batteries, and tugged on a bulge of blanket to pull it under his head. He closed his eyes, not wanting to think anymore, just wanting to sleep, because sleep meant forgetting, and forgetting meant peace of mind.

* * *

A faded blue '85 chevy caprice sat in Ryou's driveway, the engine chugging away for a solid ten minutes while Joey stood on Ryou's doorstep and pleaded for entrance.

"Come on, Ryou, open up," Joey called as he pounded on the front door of the Brit's house. He sighed as he glanced over at the peeling paint on the front of his boyfriend's house. Joey had painted the front of the house after some delinquents had vandalized his house with spray-paint on Halloween. Ryou hadn't wanted him to do it, but he had, because he cared. He cared that every time Ryou came home from school, he would see those harsh words and be disheartened. He didn't want anything to make Ryou unhappy, so he'd painted over the graffiti one Sunday morning while Ryou was still asleep.

That was why it tore him to pieces that _he_ was the one hurting Ryou right now. He bashed his fist on the door again as he let his forehead rest against the door too, crying to hold himself together.

"Ryou, can we please talk about this?" he shouted, at this point not caring if anyone saw him or if anyone heard him. Ryou had told Joey that he should stay in the closet until they could just leave town together. He didn't want Joey to suffer like Ryou was, but Joey didn't want Ryou to suffer alone. Joey couldn't care less what other people thought of him, but Ryou was so sensitive that it never ceased to affect him. Joey didn't want to hide anymore. He didn't want to let people tell him how he should live his life. And he most certainly didn't want Ryou to continue being persecuted alone as he had been for the past two years.

That was it. He wasn't going to let Ryou misunderstand what had happened between him and Mai. He wasn't going to let a common whore separate them. He checked the doorknob and found that the door was unlocked. He pushed it open and went in, expecting a puff of warm air to greet him, but found only a dark cold entryway. It was even colder than the house tended to be when Ryou wasn't home.

"Ryou? Are you home?" Joey called, worried. Ryou always locked up the house when he wasn't home, afraid of what might happen if he wasn't careful. He had to be home if the door was unlocked. Joey tried to turn on the lights in order to aid his search, but found that flipping the lightswitch did nothing at all.

"Ryou?" he called again, checking the kitchen and the living room before going to Ryou's room, where he found a mountain of blankets humped over a human-sized bulk. "Ryou, can you hear me?" he called, his voice breaking as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. Finally, he reached down and carefully peeled the blankets back until he finally spotted a lock of fluffy white hair poking out from underneath a sweatshirt hood. "Ryou, wake up," Joey called, his eyes stinging with tears. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Ryou into his arms, starting to cry into Ryou's hair as he pleaded for him to wake up.

"Please, Ryou, let me fix this. I love you, I really do." He sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, starting to feel hopeful as Ryou began to stir in his embrace. "Are you okay?" he asked urgently as those big doe eyes fluttered open. "It's freezing in here, Ryou," he scolded, still sniffling. "You shouldn't be sleeping in the cold like this. It's dangerous."

"Joey?" Ryou looked confused. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to make things right, but we can do that later. I'm going to take you home with me, okay?" Joey started to extract Ryou out from his little cave, making the smaller male gasp at the blast of colder air.

"No, I'm fine," he tried to protest, but Joey wasn't having any of it. Joey pressed his lips to Ryou's cheek suddenly, making Ryou freeze.

"You're as cold as ice." Joey gave Ryou a stern look that made the stubborn orphan wither. "You're coming home with me." He slipped his arms around Ryou's chest from behind and tugged him out into the open and off the bed, setting him down on his feet as he knocked the shoebox off the bed, scattering its contents on the floor. "I'm sorry, let me help," he began, crouching down to gather the items, but Ryou quickly joined him and tried to push his hands away.

"No, it's okay, I can get it," Ryou said quickly, trying to take one of his suicide notes out of Joey's hand, but it was too late. Joey had already glimpsed the words and held the note out of reach, standing up again as he started to read it, a storm gathering in his expression.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice low and tense as he continued to read. "Ryou, what is this?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Ryou choked out, suddenly feeling deeply ashamed of himself as he crouched on the floor, quietly putting the other items back into the shoebox as he kept his head down, not wanting to see how Joey reacted to his suicidal letter from ten months ago. Valentine's Day. It was the last one he'd written. After Joey, there hadn't been anymore. He sat there for a moment, holding the old shoebox in both hands as he held his breath and stared at the floor, waiting for Joey's reaction. He was surprised when Joey dropped to the floor and threw his arms around Ryou, starting to cry.

" _I_ would miss you, Ryou," he whispered, addressing the words in Ryou's letter. "I love you. I don't know what I'd do without you. Please, please don't _ever_ kill yourself, okay? Promise me you never will."

"I-I can't," Ryou choked out, somewhat stunned, but Joey squeezed him more tightly.

"Promise me," Joey repeated, needing to hear those words before he was willing to let go of his boyfriend.

"I promise," Ryou whispered at last, and Joey kissed his other cheek.

"Good, because I need you." He held Ryou's white cheeks with both of his hands, the soft leather of his driving gloves tender against the chapped skin. "I need you, Ryou, like I need food and sleep and oxygen. I love you, Ryou. What you saw with Mai… it's not what you thought. She came onto me. _She_ kissed _me_ , and I tried to push her away, but she was stronger than I thought. If I hurt her, she could have accused me of attacking her, and I couldn't let that happen."

What he didn't tell Ryou was that Mai had corner him in the stairwell and accused him of being gay. What he didn't tell Ryou was that Mai had said if Joey wasn't gay, then he'd kiss her. It was true that Mai had kissed Joey, but he'd played along to keep her from knowing the truth, since it was so important to Ryou that their relationships remain a secret. What he didn't tell Ryou was that he planned on coming out anyways, because he was so sick of the secrecy and the hiding.

"You have to believe me, Ryou." The desperate, sad-puppy look in Joey's face was enough to bring Ryou to tears and nod vigorously.

"I believe you, Joey," he whispered, and the two lovers embraced again. "I believe you, and I'm so sorry that I didn't trust you. I didn't mean what I said, earlier. I do trust you more than my dad, I do, Joey…" He sobbed into Joey's shoulder, and Joey rubbed his back comfortingly, hushing him softly to make him calm down.

"It's okay, Ryou, I know you didn't mean it." The blond kissed the Brit's forehead as he held him, letting him cry against him for a few minutes. "Ryou, you're shaking," he murmured pityingly. "Let me take you out to my car, okay? I'll pack a bag for you and you'll spend the night at my place, alright?"

"I-I can't do that," Ryou resisted, even as his teeth started chattering.

"Nonsense. It's below freezing outside and your power's out. I'm not letting you stay here." Joey wiped his own eyes again and stood up, picking up the large fuzzy blanket that he knew was Ryou's favorite. He wrapped Ryou up in it, cocooning his lover in the warmth and making sure that the blanket wasn't trailing on the floor before he carried Ryou in his arms, bridal-style, out to his car and sat him in the passenger seat. He kissed Ryou on his pale lips and murmured, "I'll be right back, okay?"

"O-Okay," Ryou murmured, smiling tentatively as color began to return to his white cheeks from the heaters blasting inside the old car.

Joey closed the car door and jogged back to the house. He grabbed a duffel bag from the hall closet and went to Ryou's room, grabbing his outerwear from the floor and some clothes from his dresser before grabbing a few necessary toiletries from the bathroom and zipping the bag shut. He grabbed Ryou's boots then headed for the door, grabbing Ryou's backpack as an afterthought before going back out to his car and loading the items into his backseat. He slid into the driver's seat and buckled up, looking over at Ryou, who was starting to look like a cannoli with his white hair poking out the top of his beige, furry cocoon. He smiled gently as the shy Brit smiled tentatively back. Joey leaned over and kissed Ryou tenderly, lingering for several moments as he tried to assure Ryou that he was going to be okay.

* * *

 **Author Notes:** Now I want to see fan-art of Ryou as a cannoli... Yummy. ^-^


	3. Compensation

Joey's hand slipped under Ryou's shirt and rubbed his stomach in soft circles as the two cuddled together in Joey's bed that night. Joey had already made up his mind about what he was going to do, and he was filled with a fiery defiance that made him want to screw the rules more than ever. His hand slipped down from Ryou's stomach to his thigh, kneading it gently. Ryou made a kittenish sound as he shifted his hips, the sensations Joey offered his body starting to arouse him. Joey moved Ryou's hair aside and kissed the spot behind his ear, making the younger one sigh.

"I want you, Ryou," he whispered, a rough edge to his voice that made Ryou shiver in his arms.

"Here? Now?" he asked breathily as he rolled onto his back and gazed up at Joey, his blush invisible in the darkness.

"Yes." Joey kissed him, and Ryou moaned softly, parting his lips to encourage Joey into something deeper, their tongues touching with little playful flicks. Joey broke the kiss and started tugging Ryou's pajama pants and boxers down as he shifted over him and down the length of his body. He kissed that pale little belly-button before swirling his tongue in it, making Ryou gasped and giggle. Joey smirked, knowing that Ryou was ticklish and taking advantage of the fact to keep him from protesting.

"What about... your dad?" Ryou gasped, his fingers finding their way into Joey's soft, golden locks as he arched into his lover's touch.

"He's drunk and he's watching football. He couldn't care less about what we're doing," Joey whispered against Ryou's Adonis belt, then fluttered his lips further down to the base of Ryou's swelling member. Joey was already fully hard, his member straining against his clothes as he tried to take his time to dote on Ryou. After having a terrible fight that day, then coming home to his unheated house feeling deeply depressed, Ryou more than _deserved_ to be pleasured to his heart's content.

* * *

"Come on, Ryou, let me give you a ride to school." Joey was shoving some bread into the toaster for both of them. "You don't have to walk all the way there when I can just drive you."

"But what if any of your friends see you arrive at school with me?" Ryou fretted as he pulled on his snow boots, getting ready to leave. It always took longer to walk than to drive, so he was nearly ready to leave while Joey was still buttoning up his uniform jacket. "I don't want you getting into any trouble on my account."

"Pfft, who cares what they think?" Joey scoffed with a roll of his eyes. The words seemed light-hearted enough, but there was anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"You should."

The Brit's stern tone made Joey look up in surprise.

"If people find out that you're too friendly towards me, they're going to turn on you. And if they found out that you were _dating_ me, you'd probably get kicked off the football team."

"I don't think it'd _be_ that bad," Joey remarked with a casual shrug.

"You're wrong. They'll say you're a threat, or the instant you make the slightest mistake, they'll ban you for misconduct." Ryou was genuinely concerned about the ramifications of the being discovered. "If you can't stay on the team, you won't be able to get any sports scholarships, and then we won't be able to go to the same college, and if we can't do that, then..." Brown eyes watered a little, but he blinked away the unshed tears to hide how upset he was by the prospect of being separated from Joey like that.

"Hey, don't get upset." Joey spoke as gently as he could as he crossed the space between them and hugged Ryou by the front door. "Nothing's happened yet. I'm right here."

"You want to come out, though, don't you?" Ryou accused quietly, his breathing shallow as he struggled with his feelings on the matter.

"I was thinking about it, yeah." Joey held Ryou more tightly. "It's not fair for you to go through all this bullying alone."

" _None_ of it's fair," Ryou burst out, pulling away from Joey so that he could look him in the eye. "But the less they know, the better. You _need_ to keep it under wraps, Joey, not just for yourself, but for both of us. Besides, if they knew we were a couple, we'd never get another moment of privacy again. Did _that_ ever occur to you?"

"Hey hey, calm down," Joey urged, hands outstretched and slowly reaching for Ryou's shoulders. "If you don't think I should, then I won't, but I hate having to hide who we are."

"Just a few more months." Ryou clenched his hands into fists at his side, his gaze dropping as he leaned into Joey's embrace. "Just hold out until May, and we'll be free. Senior year is almost over..." He sounded as if he were trying to encourage himself as much as Joey, and as Joey looped an arm around Ryou's shoulders, he pressed a kiss to the other's temple.

"Stay strong, babe. I believe in you."

"Thanks." Ryou took a few deep breaths before straightening up and giving Joey an encouraging smile. "I'm going head out now. I'll see you at school."

"See ya."

Joey felt sad as he watched Ryou trudging away through the fresh layer of snow that had blanketed his front lawn last night. It wasn't fair, but they'd make it. Ryou was a good student and Joey was a good athlete, and they'd filled out their college applications together that fall, applying to all of the same schools and working on their essays together. In this small town, they needed each other just to survive, and when they went out into the real world, Ryou would need Joey just as much as ever. Joey would need Ryou simply because he loved him and that love would never die. Ryou had stolen his heart, and that greedy little Brit refused to ever give it back.


End file.
